A day in the life of a steam locomotive fireman. Rhyme.
Nine a.m. in Northwich, and I book on feeling fine.
We have to work a train to Stoke, along the Sandbach line.
I will be back within my day; things are looking bright.
No problems or long overtime, I’m going out tonight.
“Where’s our train?” I said to Fred, he gives a funny gaze.
“We have no train, we’re spare today, it don’t run Saturdays.”
We amble to the rest room, and I know we’ll get a run.
I just hope the job we get will be a local one.
Don't want a flyer heading up North.
Fast line till we reach Carnforth.
Though that may please my grabbing mate.
The overtime will make me late.
Or off to Buxton that could be tiring.
With lots of climbing, plenty of firing.
Then in walks the foreman, “There’s a train on the line.
You’re off to Dee Marsh.” Well that suits me fine.
We punch across the arches with a powerful roaring sound.
Embers shooting skyward, then falling to the ground.
The hissing sound of steam, the clanking of the steels.
The creaks and groans, the plume of smoke, the slipping of the wheels.
Mouldsworth, Chester Northgate, things are going right.
The massive Summer’s steelworks coming into sight.
We drop our trucks, make a brew, then back up on our train.
The van man waves, the whistle blows, then off we go again.
We’re heading back, with coils of steel, for some far destination.
Control has said we'll get relief, at Northwich railway station.
When we arrive there’s no relief, they ask us to work through.
The driver said, “Well I don’t mind, it’s really up to you."
I start to smile, then shake my head, he returns a frown.
“I’m sorry Fred, they’ve got no chance. The Beatles are in town.”